that first August, blood dotted linoleum
an apple bared its wayward stench
I sucked my finger & tested
a clipped word on my tongue then a blush
a kitchen performance an approximation
of American freedom can anything private be vulgar?
then what use of my feckless mouth?
God simmered below the limen of sight
even the apple brought here by force & forced then
to fit malus domestica the domestication of sin
I lived briefly unwitnessed
touched only by evening shadows
my silhouette caressing the door
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